The Disfavored Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

eyes, but tried to decode her whereabouts by her other senses. The first sensation was of a vast interior. Warmth surrounded her. Oddly, she was standing firmly on her feet, and felt the weight of full armor upon her. She felt bathed, rested, and at the peak of strength. A strange ennui alone kept her from opening her eyes.
    A sweet but repulsive odor filled her nostrils, commanding relaxation. A muscle flexed spontaneously along her shoulders. Along her jaw there was a momentary spasm. She presumed there would be no problem moving about, but there did not seem to be any occasion to do so.
    There were others in the room with her. A familiar voice asked with unfamiliar meekness, “Does she live? Is she well?” It was Ushii, sounding more cowed than she had ever known him to be. His presence should have heartened her, for they were closest of comrades; or his tenor should have alarmed her, for she had never known him to quail. But she could muster no sense of emotion or concern. Whatever may have broken Ushii’s spirit, she felt no interest in the matter.
    It was as though some part of herself had been left on the mountain road from hell, leaving her callous and unfeeling, devoid of solicitude. Yet she felt the necessary weights of her souls hanging from each hip, like equal portions on a balancing scale, and knew that she was whole. The dark, brooding presence of her swords was all the comfort she required.
    A voice as honey-sweet and repugnant as the thick air replied to Ushii. “She does live, samurai, and is well.” There was odd laughter, like that of an old crone. Then there was a command which Tomoe knew was meant for her: “Open your eyes.”
    It was not a master’s command, for she had taken no oath. She was a masterless samurai, and felt no compulsion to reply. Yet politeness was one tenet of bushido, so she obeyed. Before her stood Ushii, not as the golden warrior who had helped her on that otherworld road, but a hunched and drained man with circles beneath his eyes, frightened as a small animal.
    He gasped, stepped away from her, and cried out, “Her eyes! What have you done to her eyes!”
    Beyond Ushii, at the far wall of the richly tapestried chamber, a skeletal man sat upon an ornate throne of gold and jade. The seat was too large, making the oldster look even more narrow. He might have been taller than either samurai when standing, but sitting his depleted thinness made him seem small and frail as a sparrow. His head wobbled slightly, too large to be supported by a body with so little muscle. He had a long, thin beard. His eyes were gleeful. His extended yellow teeth were homely and gay. In front of his oversized throne burned a brazier on three bronze legs molded in the shape of hawks’ feet. From this the sweet odor exuded.
    Once again the thin, grey man deigned to reply to Ushii: “Have you not seen eyes such as those before, samurai?” His voice was that of an old woman, teasing and urging Ushii toward a realization of Tomoe’s fate.
    â€œIn last night’s battle,” said Ushii, “on the faces of murderous peasants.”
    The sorcerer looked more pleased.
    Tears rolled down Ushii’s face as Tomoe watched him, unmoved, empty of compassion.
    â€œO, cruel master!” Ushii began. “You have tricked me! I bargained my service for her life, but what kind of life have you wrought?”
    Streamers of smoke thin as the sorcerer’s beard rose from the brazier. From behind this faint curtain he spoke in a lecturing tone: “I am told that a samurai without a master is little more than a samurai without honor. I am delighted to serve as master to Tomoe Gozen, thereby to insure her station.” He liked his own jest, and grinned horridly.
    â€œWoe!” cried Ushii, and scratched his own face until it bled. “It is too wicked to be true!”
    â€œHow so?” the stork-thin venerable snapped. He gestured toward Tomoe